


praying on bruised knees

by icarusofstars



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Claire needs one too honestly, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Matt Murdock Needs a Hug, They're trying to make things work, Timeline What Timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 09:26:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14974196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icarusofstars/pseuds/icarusofstars
Summary: Claire is a shitty Catholic. She hasn’t been to Church in a long time. It’s not ranked very high on her list of priorities, which she thinks God will understand considering her newfound path in life. She lives in a constant state of chaos to some degree. Which is totally her choice, so she isn’t complaining, it just is what it is. Going to confession hasn’t seemed all that important when some days she’s fighting for her life.





	praying on bruised knees

Claire is a shitty Catholic. She hasn’t been to Church in a long time. It’s not ranked very high on her list of priorities, which she thinks God will understand considering her newfound path in life. She lives in a constant state of chaos to some degree. Which is totally her choice, so she isn’t complaining, it just is what it is. Going to confession hasn’t seemed all that important when some days she’s fighting for her life. 

Matt, all things considered, is the poster boy of Catholicism. Including the rampant guilt, but she’ll leave that alone. The point is he’s a constant example of faith that occasionally gets her thinking. Like on sleepy Sunday morning when she feels the bed get colder because he crawls out of it, leaving sweet kisses on her face and the promise that he’ll be back later. Sometimes she watches him get ready on those mornings. Usually she just mumbles something unintelligent and goes back to sleep, only waking when Matt comes back, the sun already high in the sky and with a coffee for her in hand. 

Claire is the type to not need to go out of her way to pray in grand buildings to feel satisfied with her connection to God. Her connection to God comes in the form of recovering patient’s, grateful families, and sometimes, peaceful departures. Her work has the grace of God involved every step of the way. Whether she actively thinks about it or not. He’s always there, guiding her steady hands and giving her the strength she needs so that she may help others. There’s no need to search for him. To seek him out. 

So she doesn’t go to Midnight Mass and she _certainly_ doesn’t drag herself from bed after working double shifts so she can cram herself into a Subway car and want to die when on the seventh day God _rested_ , and thus, so will she. That being said, Matt does have her thinking. She finds herself hesitating outside of Church gates when she passes them on walks. She catches herself making silent, tiny prayers more and more often. 

Last night Matt stumbled home half dead which should be no surprise to her but he’d been doing so _well_ since they moved in together. He was being so careful for her. Almost as if he was trying to make sure she’d stay, if just for a little while. The fact that he’d come home bruised and bloody doesn’t make her any less sure of the progression of their relationship. Despite the brief moment of peace she knew what a committed relationship with Matt would entail. She wanted this and she’ll deal with all of it. She’s not running away this time and he…..Matt does his best not to hide, to try and not scare her off. 

It doesn’t mean that he hadn’t scared her shitless last night, though. He’s scared her before and he’ll scare her again, and again, and again. That’s dating a hero. That’s dating a man who wants to save the world. That’s dating a man who is learning to care about himself, if not for his own sake, than for the people who love him. He’s doing better but he’ll always be Matt Murdock. It’s why Claire loves him, and she’d known it for awhile. It had been a quiet and creeping realization that she has mostly kept to herself. Last night it had been the only thought in her head, deafening and heart-stopping ( _i love you, i love you, i love you, i love y—_ ).

He’s in no real condition to go out again so soon but there’s a girl out there who needs him. A kidnapping and the kidnappers won’t get lucky this time, he swears to her. But he needs to do this and there is someone out there in the world who really needs a hero right now. Who needs the devil of Hell’s Kitchen to live up to his namesake. So he’d gone to work this morning to save the world the legal way ( but only _after_ Claire told Foggy to watch out for their idiot, which he’d **strongly** objected to ) and tonight he’ll go out to try and save a damsel in distress. He needs to do that. Claire knows that.

But she’s scared. Plain and simple, she’s scared. There’s no point in lying to herself. Which is how she found herself knelt in front of Matt’s closet, with the case that hides the Daredevil suit pulled out in front of her. She feels nervous. She feels silly and she feels way more than a _little_ stupid. She also feels like she needs to do this and so she pops open the case and brings the folded suit to sit neatly in her lap. The helmet she holds for a second, just staring, before that too, is placed on her lap, her hands clasp together over it, the horns dig into the sides of her wrist. 

“I haven’t done this in a long time so bare with me.” she licks her lips, trying to think of what she wants to say, exactly, “but I need you, right now, and so does he.” She shifts to get more comfortable, still trying to shake off the feeling of being ridiculous. Of feeling childish to need to get how she feels out in any way she can. She feels like a little girl who rode her bicycle into the street too fast and too soon and is now desperately looking back towards her Father for guidance because she doesn’t know to break yet —

_Fitting_ , she thinks dryly, _we’re all God’s children_. 

“I need you to watch out for him. I know you’re probably already doing that since he’s still alive and he **definitely** shouldn’t be, at this point but I….. I know there are a lot of people in the world who need you and your protection but I...don’t ask for much. I try to get by on my own. I know I can get by on my own. Not for this though. I — I love him and I want him safe. As safe as you can get him.” 

Her hands unclasp, moving just to hold Matt’s helmet close to her, ignoring how the horns dig into the soft flesh of her stomach, uncomfortably. “I’m not asking for any miracles here. I know what kind of world we live in. It’s dangerous, and shitty, and Matt’s stubborn but I….. he does so much for everyone else. No matter what it costs him and I don’t want it to cost him his life. I don’t know if I could ….take that. Not right now. I just got him and I’d like to keep him, bullshit and all.” 

There are tears stinging her eyes and crying isn’t a _weakness_ but she wipes at them viciously before they can fall. “If you do your part I’ll do mine?” is her feeble offering, spoken around an even more fragile quirk of her lips, “well, amen.” 

The room is deadly silent for a moment. Claire is still clutching onto Matt’s armor as if trying to sink all the love and protectiveness she feels into the suit _itself_ and not just place them at the feet of God, hoping that he’s listening. She wants so badly for a sign, in that moment. She wants a sign that she’s been heard more than almost anything else she’s ever wanted before, which is an extensive list. For most of those things she hasn’t been on her knees, near tears but —

“Claire?” Matt’s quiet voice shocks her out of her quiet reverie, bended head snapping up at the same time her eyes snap open. The helmet goes tumbling out her arms in shock.

“Matt I-” She’s already trying to put the suit back into the case but her hands are shaking a little because she is so ( startled? _embarrassed_ , god when did he come in? What did he _hear_? She feels so stupid all over again ) —

When she looks up at his face the expression stops her. Stops her thoughts. Stops her shaking hands. Stops her fucking _heart_. It’s so vulnerable and open that it makes her feel numb. The way your leg feels after sitting on it too long. It’s a blissful feeling compared to the white-hot panic he’d just filled her with a second ago. 

It’s silent again for a moment. Then he’s moving forward. He’s fast, kneeling in front of her, with her, before she can fully blink. His hands hover near her face for a split second like he can’t believe she’s real. Then he touches her, softly. She thinks he might kiss her until his forehead is pressed against hers tightly and his eyes _close_ and this is — _better_ she thinks, better than kissing, and her hands come to hold his, where they’re holding onto her. 

“I didn’t think you were gonna be home for awhile.” She says, lamely, after she lets him just hold her. His eyes, milky brown, flutter open slowly at the sound of her voice and one of his hands moves from her cheek to clutch in her hair, shifting her closer, if possible. 

“I was gonna take you out for lunch.” That makes her laugh, and it’s a little wet but she just shakes her head and shifts away, out of his grip. He starts to protest until she’s hugging him, pressing her face into the crook of his neck to breathe him in and steady herself. She’s hiding, too, something unusual for Claire Temple, the fucking night nurse, but even for her this is a lot.

Matt just kisses the top of her head, “ Claire I-”

“I love you.” She interrupts, heart hammering away in her chest. She knows he must've heard her say it the first time. That was different though, a conversation _about_ him and not _with_ him. “I love you and I just...want you safe.” 

They slip into quiet again but she doesn’t feel panicked now. She’s back in control of the situation. She meant for him to hear what she said. No playing things off. No pretending she meant less than what she did. Cards on the table. Claire is a lot of things and none of those things is a coward. She grabs up one of his hands and brings it to her lips, kisses the busted knuckles with all the gentleness and care of a summer breeze. “I love you.”

He tucks his fingers under her chin, thumb brushing against her lips before he kisses her, just as kindly, and with a pinch of desperation, of sadness, because he can’t promise her his safety. Not when every day he walks out the door offering himself to the world like a sacrificial lamb. And they both know Claire doesn’t want empty promises or empty words. So he kisses her, kneeling on the floor in whatever amount of God’s presence that remains and tries to ease her pains and burdens like he tries to fix everything else wrong with the world.

**Author's Note:**

> I just want my favorite Marvel ship to date to be happy together (or be trying to be happy together). Unfortunately this will only happen in my brain. Alas, I can dream....and write sometimes, I guess. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are appreciated!


End file.
